Wherever Dreams May Go
by may8699
Summary: This story is finally coming together enough for an actual synopsis: Hermione has been appointed teacher, Draco her assistant. Can they learn to overcome the traumas of war and put the past behind them?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter one

The sleep was fitful and her mind just wouldn't stop its incessant reeling. Her dreams were becoming ever more vivid and detailed. Every so often she could swear she heard his name murmured or see the outline of his features just a bit more sharply. But even though these dreams had been occurring for the better part of a month, she still had no idea whom was in them. All she did know was that it was not her husband, Ron. She didn't know why or how she knew, she just did. And now she was awake, and frustrated and wishing that she could just get back to sleep to finish her dream.

Instead Hermione got up out of bed to start her morning pot of tea. A quick look at the clock revealed it to be 4:30 in the morning, two hours before she had to be awake. If this was how this school year was going to go then she really didn't want to be a professor. Fuzzy images of her almost forgotten dream drifted past her, bringing with it thoughts of apples and soft fur drapings. A warm caress across her stomach and a whispered something in her ear. Just as the images were becoming clearer the teapot let out the most shrill and piercing whistle Hermione had ever heard, and just like that the image faded and Hermione was once more standing in her kitchen waiting on her tea at 4:35 in the morning.

At quarter to six Ron emerged groggily from their sleeping quarters. His bright red hair assaulting the eyes in the early morning brightness. The golden rays of sunshine enhancing the color, bewitching it to appear like flames from a phoenix. His lithe and gangly frame draped over Hermione's shoulder in an act of affection that startled her out of her reverie. Spread out before her on the kitchen table were lesson plans and research options for her new pupils. While she would be able to come home on Hogsmead weekends and during breaks, this would be the last time she saw him in all his morning grumpy glory, and while she would never say it out loud she was happy about that.

"Morning sweetie," the faked smile plastered perfectly on her face for his benefit. "Did you sleep well?"

"Mmhmm," he mumbled nondescriptly. As he poured the remnants of tea into his cup he looked at his wife. Her hair was wildly tamed, the loose bun that was all she could ever get her hair to do was the tame part all of the ends that flew every which way was the wild part. She was seated with her favorite fluffy robe wrapped upon her body. She was the picture of perfection in his eyes. She always had been. "'Mione how long have you been awake? You look bloody tired."

She knew he was trying to be sweet, but being so sleep deprived for so many days on end made her just a bit more snappy. "What does it matter how bloody long I've been awake? I didn't bother you, nor did I make any sounds to disrupt your sleep. Or had you not noticed that?" Even she was slightly taken aback at the tone in her voice. She loved Ron, she really did. But that god awful dream had her on end. Why couldn't her husband make her feel the way this man in her dreams had?

"I'm sorry Ron. That came out a bit more harsh than I wanted. I'm just tired and stressed and I can't seem to settle on a lesson plan for these first years. Everything I want to teach them they aren't old enough to learn. I've been up since half four and..." Hermione trailed off as Ron wrapped her into his warm embrace.

"Is ok 'Mione. I know you aren't mad at me. I can always tell. Would you like me to make breakfast 'fore I go to tha ministry?"

She genuinely smiled up at him this time. He was so sweet to her but they both knew that this wouldn't last forever. While Hermione didn't believe in divination at all thank you very much, she did believe in premonitions through dreams and deja vu. With the vividness of her latest dream she was sure that her and Ron would be on the outs soon enough. She would always love him, just wouldn't always be in love with him.

"Breakfast really would be lovely Ronald."

Breakfast was over fairly quickly in relative silence. Ron not saying much as he ate the eggs and bacon he made. He found Hermione preferred when her meals were prepared without magic and so when he cooked for her he refrained from using it, unless of course it was something special that he couldn't master. Ron even had to admit that he preferred the taste, he found that magic left a certain salty taste to everything, almost as though magic over seasoned what it cooked. But regardless these things, he relished these times when he could make her happy, when he could indulge her non magical whims.

As Ron cleaned up the dishes he had to make sure that Hermione would be back in three weeks. He wanted to plan a surprise for her but needed to make sure she would be here. "Three weeks yeah? Then you'll be home for a couple days?"

"Yeah. Three weeks and then I'll be home. But right now you need to get going or else you'll be late and I need to get ready as well for the ride from Kings Cross."

Ron bent down and gave her a tender kiss on her cheek. He hoped this surprise would show her how much she meant to him, but until that time he would let her go and hope she didn't act on the feelings they both had. He shook his head as he remembered the very vivid dream that didn't involve his wife. As Ron apparated away Hermione shook her head as blurry images from her dream invaded her mind once more. Oh how she wished for a pensive that Ron couldn't access.

As the day wore on Hermione slowly pushed the dream out of her mind. She had barely thought about it as she neared the train station. By the time she settled onto the Hogwarts express she couldn't recall any of the information that plagued her morning. As well it should be, it was just a dream after all.

She sat in her compartment silently by herself for the better part of the train ride. Sure she could have apparated but this ride was familiar. It felt like home. She was reading her charmed copy of Hogwarts a History, because she didn't want to keep buying the same book over and over again, when her compartment door slid open. She assumed it was just another student roaming to see where their friends were on the train and so she didn't look up.

"Granger." That one word in that one drawl and her dream came flooding back with a vengeance. She could not have been prepared even if she had foresight enough to know it would be a certain blond bloke. Her skin vibrated with remembered touches that hadn't occurred outside of her dream, a feather light caress up her ribs; the rough feel of a thumb, his thumb, over a taut nipple; the soft thrum of his voice as he... Hermione shook her head and wished wholeheartedly that Draco did not just see the goose flesh that adorned her skin.

"Draco," she drawled in return. "Aren't you a bit too old to be going to school?" She knew he was returning as a professor but the need to poke the bear as it were was just too great a thing to pass up and resist.

He sneered at her then. Professor, correction Headmistress Mogonnagal, had appointed him to the position of potions master assistant under Professor Slughorn. She felt his rehabilitation would better be served at the school under her watchful eye than in the grips of the demented guards at Azcaban. Harry Potters testimony on his behalf and her reassurance for redemption caught him off guard to say the least, but over the last few weeks he became grateful for the second chance. That was until a certain bushy haired banshee sauntered into his train. He couldn't help but find the figments of his fretful nights sleep creeping back into his conscience.

With all of the pomp he could muster Draco returned the snide and cutting comment with one of his own. "Ah, I forgot. I should refer to you as Weasel now shouldn't I? Where is your litter as I'm sure you've taken to the Weasel family sport of producing as many offspring as can be humanly created."

The look of complete and utter hatred that crossed her face was enough for Draco to realise he may have crossed a line. Which line though was the problem. He had just untactfully referred to Hermione as a whore and demeaned her worth down to that of a dog meant for breeding.

"I'll have you know Malfoy that mine and Ronald's personal life is of absolutely no concern of yours. So if by chance you feel the need to bring up my marital status or," Hermione closed her eyes briefly as she took a deep breath trying to will away the thought of the children she would never bear,"my children present or future I will personally see to it that you wish for the confines of a cell at Azcaban with a dementor hovering over you every waking moment of the day. Now if you don't mind, go the bloody hell away."

Even though magic shouldn't be able to be used in force on the train Hermione had so much pent up aggression and anger that it willed Draco out of the compartment with a loud resounding snap of the door closing. It was then apparent that the last straw, as it were, was the mention of her litter of children. The look that crossed her face as she mentioned them he didn't feel he was meant to see. Draco also distinctly noticed the lack of the term past when referring to offspring.

As he sulked away Draco had the briefest flash of his own mother crying when he was maybe four years old. Sitting in a heap in front of his father crying as he tried to console her. Draco had known that his mother was to be having another baby and that there had been an appointment with a healer earlier that day. Where she had been happy and carefree that morning, now she was a sobbing mess. A few days later was the funeral for the little sister or brother that he would never get to meet. The same look that his mother bore at the mention of her children was the same look Granger had just wore.

Draco clambered back into his compartment unsure of how he should feel about the realisation that Hermione had failed to produce a child. Where he had wanted to feel ecstatic at her finally failing, shame and sorrow wound up prevailing. He closed his eyes trying to will away the thoughts of Hermione's misfortune. There was still quite a ways to go before they reached Hogsmead and so a nap would be in order, more surly to clear his mind but in part so that he might finally be able to see who was in his dream.

Hermione closed her eyes once more. Trying to will away the tears that Draco unknowingly caused at the mention of her children, of her children that she could not carry to term even with muggle intervention. Both magical healers and muggle professionals assured her that there was nothing they could do. Her body just would not carry to term. A single tear slid down her cheek as she willed her dream world to overtake her waking. She wanted to feel the caresses, even if she had a feeling she now knew who caused them.


	2. Chapter 2

The train ride from Kings Cross station in London to The Hogsmeade depot in Northern Scotland was uneventful after the little, and very limited interaction, chat with the Blond Ferret Extraordinaire. The car she sat in was far enough away that she knew the wandering of students on the train would not disrupt her too badly in her musings. Their idle chit chat wouldn't permeate her little hole on her way back to her sanctuary. Hermione knew she would be home shortly, able to sort out her expectations, not only for her students whom she desperately hoped not to disappoint and herself.

Draco had yet to try and speak with her again. Not that she blamed him. But a firm hand was going to be needed. He was not a friend. He never had been. He had called her mudblood and other such atrocities while they were in school and she did not want to forgive him his transgressions. Especially considering he would never have the decency to ask for the forgiveness.

 _"Granger." The words were light, seductive, drawled with a huskiness Hermione had never heard before. "Please. Please forgive me." As he wrapped one of her lean legs around his waist..._

'Snap out of it Hermione!' She thought to herself. Since she first laid eyes on him, first heard his voice again such a few short hours ago, flashbacks, or were they memories, from her insistent dreams flooded her mind. This was a very large reason why she was unsure of the lessons she had drawn up. Stupid ferret.

As the train stopped and Hermione debarked, her sense of nostalgia came back again full tilt. Just past the platform she could see The Three Broomsticks with Madam Rosemerta escorting a drunk from the premise and Honeydukes with its promise of sweets, and to Hermione's recollection of safety during the war. High Street was bustling with activity for the late fall evening as shops stayed open just a little longer so the older students could get random last minute trinkets before heading up to the school.

Perhaps Headmistress McGonagal would allow her to make stops here even on weekends that weren't designated as Hogsmeade weekends. Wait did she even need permission being a professor herself? Hermione would just have to double check. If anything she could always pay a visit to Aberforth through Adriana's portrait. It must still be in the castle after all.

The air around Hogsmeade was crisp with the hint of summers near end and sweet with the wafting smells of Honeydukes. In her reverie, Hermione forgot about her trepidation, and dare she say the images of her dreams didn't bother her once. That is until she remembered Honydukes carried sugar quills.

 _The lightness that he used to gracefully and artfully trace her features left a tingling on her skin. A slight tickling that was closely followed by a heat that was, while unexpected, comforting and wanted._

 _The slow drag of his tongue along the lines that he made with the quill brought goose flesh to her skin along with a rosey flush. The feather light caresses had her all but begging. "Please." She could hear herself whine and whimper. "Dra.."_

Hermione snapped out of it as she was walking away from the sweets shop. Looking down she noticed that she had procured a rather large amount of sugar quills. Was her subconscious fucking with her? Yes she liked the sweets, but come on there really was no need to have nine packages of them. Especially right now.

Oh well she would just have to send a package of them to Ron and a package of them to Harry and Ginny. Claim something to the likes of thinking of them when she saw the shop they frequented the most during their time here.

Draco had just left the train compartment himself when she sauntered back into view. There were direct orders for him to meet the Headmistress before the start of term feast. He blanched when he noticed that there was only one carriage left, him and her would have to ride together up to the gate, surely she wouldn't walk and he had to make sure to have a very punctual arrival if his parole was to stay in tact. Damn it all.

He reached the carriage first and daring an act of chivalry, along with smugness at his general gentlemanly ways, extended his arm and held open the door to Hermione. The realisation that she would be sharing another ride with the git infuriated her to no end. Why does it seem that in her waking moments she could not get away from him?! Wasn't it bad enough he tormented her in her dreams, because torment was what she wanted to call it even though the tender touches and lavish contingencies were anything but actual torment.

"Granger," the way he drawled her name was familiar. Somehow reminiscent of school days long since past and yet so incredibly intimate. It unnerved her. Really it did. The slight shudder at the sound of her name on his lips, the production of goose flesh upon her skin was because she didn't care for the reminders. Or at least that is what she willed herself to think. "Seems there is only one carriage left and seeing how I am such a gentleman I will extend an invitation to partake in the journey up to the castle with myself to you." The arrogance that emitted of off him, along with that pretentious smirk that was inherently Malfoy snapped her out of her internal musings.

"How very _galant_ ," making sure to enunciate the word with as much venom as she could muster. Surely galant wasn't an apt descriptor for him. "However I must decline your offer. I wouldn't wish to sully any reputations with my presence alongside yours." She sniffed haughtily into the air, after all he wasn't the only one that could show a derisive air of disdain towards the other. Hermione looked about the clearing for any of the other carriages, she remembered there were always plenty when they attended school. Surely there was another that she could ride in.

"If you're looking for another to ride," Draco couldn't help the double entendres, "you will be wasting your time. They've all left for the castle already. Now either you can have your belongings placed in here and we can agree upon this being a most egregious insult to our persons for not allowing a distance most befitting our stations, or you can walk. Obviously I will not partake in the extraneous efforts of running up to Hogwarts, but your proclivity in such frivolous activities should be to your liking. Now either get in or I will be and shutting the door behind me. Your choice." With a nonchalance that was a very well practiced and well versed mannerism, Draco began inspecting his fingernails while she worked out her predicament.

With a grace that he would have the mud-professor severely lacking due to her upbringing, Hermione smiled a sickly sweet smirk. "Why Lord Malfoy how quickly the mighty have fallen," her acidic words dripping with vehemence that he knew he deserved. "Sharing your trolley with a mudblood, how quaint. However, I am due to speak with the Headmistress about my new position as a professor and it was requested that I be there in a timely fashion. So while I would rather not have to be in a near proximity to you, I do need to get there."

As Hermione stepped past him and into the carriage, Draco caught the smell of parchment, the smell of ink and the smell of sugar quills. His mind raced because he knew that combination. But from where. Where had he smelled such scents with such force before. Surely he had never been close enough to her to have picked up those notes previously. Pushing the thought from his head with a barely discernible shake Draco clambered in opposite of Hermione. After all sitting side by side would be far more detrimental than being across.

Hogwarts came into view quickly for them. The absolute silence disturbed by the sharp intake of Hermione's breath. The soaring imposing turrets of the Northern and Southern towers had changed. No longer the bleak grey of stone masonry they now we're adorned in Ravenclaw colours in the north and starry sky in the south. Common constellations adorning the tower and sparkling with all their glory in early dusk lighting of the sky. She could see Gemini, Taurus, Orion and damnit Draco was present there as well.

The cobbled bridge leading from the entry gate had been repaired, but there was something new to it as well. Names and statues of fallen Order members and students along with a stout stone Professor Flitwick now greeted all that entered Hogwarts. She saw the statue for Colin, holding his camera at that, grinning with his name and relevant information etched into the stone next to him. She saw what she assumed to be Padma in stone as well. While nobody knew for certain how she perished, now she seemed as though forever she would be home.

Draco looked at Hermione, his usual mask slightly out of place as he watched silent tears fall from her eyes with every passing memorial. The pain he saw was intent and for once he truly felt repentant for his sins towards the destruction he helped bring about during the war. Had he even the slightest inclination of what his actions would cause would he have done it? He wondered that from time to time, but now? Now it hit him full force. It hit him because he noticed that even though Gregory Goyle was a student, even though he was a tragedy of war, there was no monument, no stone statue to have a memory remembered for him.

Hermione tore her eyes away just long enough to see his hurt. Recognition dawned on her face as she remembered that he too,had lost friends in the Battle of Hogwarts. Friends that no one would care to remember.

"I'm sorry Draco." The sentiment came out a softly whispered epithet, barely above the sound of a breeze. Perhaps he was hearing things and so he did not acknowledge her understanding.

The main archway had also been redone, Hermione noted. The remainder of the bridge lost to thoughts and contemplations. Every student that would now go here would see the names and they would know the history. Where the school motto had just been something said and rehearsed in classrooms, it now was blazoned upon the front door, Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus along with an addition, a new motto, of Ubi Draco Cubat, Et Obsecravit Intente: Et Exaudivit Pastor. ( never tickle a sleeping dragon, where a dragon sleeps its keeper watches intently). This was highly fitting she thought as Draco let out a divisive sort of laugh.

"What is it Malfoy? Find something funny?" Hermione asked. Her annoyance showing thoroughly.

"Actually I do find it funny. Dragons only have keepers when they are in captivity. Seems I've traded one prison for another." While he meant to have it be a false gaiety, he somehow found himself actually being amused. Perhaps this was a warning for future generations not to mess with Hogwarts or some such. Hermione just shook her head as the carriage came to a stop.

She had learned to carry treats for the creatures that she encountered, including thestrals. She graciously handed a necrotic rabbit, it had been in her bag protected from other important items of course, and gave it a loving pat. While the look of it was unnerving and off putting to say the least, she still held them in high regard. Draco just looked on with his mouth agape at the fact that she had produced a dead rotting rabbit from her persons, and then proceeded to head inside. The sooner he learned what his assignment truly would be here, the sooner he could eat something, and the sooner he could get to bed.

The Headmistresses office was neat and tidy, much like the former transfiguration professor herself. Where Dumbeldore had knick knacks and stacks of clutter and books galore, Minerva kept the vast room clear and sparsely decorated. The walls lined with bookcase after bookcase, with row upon row of books. She also kept in one corner a ledger and photos of her former students that perished in the battle. Draco upon closer inspection, noticed that she had Greg's picture there, but it was hidden in the back almost to say that he was remembered but grudgingly so. He cantered back to one of the chairs that sat opposite of the great desk in the middle of the room. Minerva had not looked up from her parchment since he entered her office.

" Im sorry Headmistress but you've requested I meet with you before the start of term feast, I'm here and yet you aren't speaking with me. From the owl you sent it seemed pertent that I be here in a timely fashion." Draco could not hide his irritation. This was largely due in part to be being hungry, and the other smaller part because he still wanted to try and maintain some of his gusto that he knew waned after the war.

As the last syllable left his lips a certain bushy haired witch, that he could not for the life of him get away from, entered. "Ah, there you are Hermione. Now I can let you both know what I am expecting of you this year."

"I'm sorry Headmistress, but I believe you just used a plur..." Hermione then noticed the exceedingly platinum blond hair of a man that she desperately did not want to see any more of. "ale noun? What is he doing in here?"

"Good to see you again as well, Granger" this was going to cause him to have one of those muggle aneurysms that he's read about, he was sure of it.

"Mrs. Weasley, or would you prefer Granger?"

"Granger is fine profes..err Headmistress," Hermione stated as she took the seat next to Draco.

"Very well Mrs. Granger, Mr. Malfoy. As you both have figured out no doubt, I have brought you both back in the hopes of completing a professors roster. One of you obviously will have a bit more freedom and professional standing than the other, but my hope is that you two will come to respect each other and lend to a very productive school year. While I am giving you position of Muggle Appreciation and Magical Etiquette Mrs. Granger I feel as though I may have placed too much responsibility on your shoulders. Seems quite a few students here are interested in these areas and so I've had to add more classes to your roster. This had led me to redetermine where best to have Mr. Malfoy stationed. It was going to be with Professor Slughorn doing potions, but in light of the shear number of students vying for your classes Mrs. Granger. I am going to have to reassign you," she directed the following statement pointedly at Draco, " Mr. Malfoy as her assistant. I've already take the liberty of procuring you copies of her texts to be used in class so that you can help with the grading and other such duties as Mrs. Granger sees fits."

Draco groaned inwardly. Now not only was he destined to be working in the same place as brainiac unlimited, now he was her lackey! This was balderdash, this was insulting, this was, was, was inexcusable!

"Oh and one other thing. I've arranged your shared lounge to reflect the house unity that Hogwarts has adopted. Your respective office suites and bed chambers are directly connected. Now it's about time that we get down to the feast. We have a sorting to do." With the that last parting quip Headmistress McGonagal grabbed the Sorting Hat and ushered the shocked Professors from her study down to the Great Hall.

 _Bloody hell_ , Hermione and Draco thought at the same time.

{~*~}

I have deleted the Ronsey chapter in lieu of making this about Hermione mostly instead of having a lot of characters from canon in it. That and I've been having trouble continuing doing Ronsey chapters as well as Dramione chapters. I also want to give a shoutout to shamelessbookaddict and bentnotbroken1 for their delightful attitudes and understanding help while I try to write this the way it is begging me to write it.


	3. Chapter 3

The start of term feast went off without a hitch. Students were sorted to much ado, cheering and clapping from all of the houses. Ravenclaws quietly congratulated new Hufflepuffs while Slytherin and Gryffindor were trying their damnedest to be the most raucous towards the others new members. The actual defeat of Voldemort was still being celebrated even now, even by those that had the unfortunateness of being child warriors. In the mix of students were seventh years that fought, or were holed up in the dungeons because they couldn't escape before the bloody battle at Hogwarts took place. They weren't honoured with gifts from every which way, as some of the heroes were, but there was a somber reverence for them in the hallways from the portraits that hung once more on the walls and from the surviving staff.

Hermione could see them from her perch at the head table with the rest of the staff. Denis Creavy was seated at Gryffindor, he would be graduating this year, cheering among the most rowdy for their Slytherin counterparts. Adina Patil was seated in Hufflepuff, her quiet reserve watching vigilantly for any form of a sign that trouble needed dimming. There were others as well, Slytherin housed Lorainna Greengrass, youngest of the Greengrass sisters, along with Narrue Parkinson, little brother to Pansy. As Hermione continued to scan the mingle of students she shifted her eyes to watch her fellow professors. Professor Slughorn sat enthusiastically chatting away with Professors Vector and Grubbly-Plank; Professor Lapetus now held the Charms position; and Defense Against the Dark Arts was now being taught by Bill Weasley.

Hermione snapped out of her thoughts at how much had, and had not, changed at Hogwarts when she heard her name. "As many of you know Hermione Granger has graciously accepted the positions of Muggle Appreciation and Magical Etiquette. Assisting her will be Draco Malfoy," Draco quietly scoffed at the mention of his lesser post, "and I will expect you all to show him the same amount of respect as the other professors."

Her intense gaze did not go unnoticed as it was directed towards both the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables. Nor did the slight slumping of Professor Slughorn at the acknowledgement that he indeed would not have the coveted assistant. Bill also raised an eyebrow in Hermione's direction, silently asking if this would be an arrangement that she agreed to. All she could muster was a feeble half smile and shrug at the unasked question.

"Furthermore, as most of you will remember, house rivalries are to be kept at a minimum. While I am pleased at the lack of disrespect from last year I am wholeheartedly expecting just as much if not more from you this year. Please ensure that you get a proper amount of sleep tonight, classes start bright and early in the morning." The Headmistress finished.

As Hermione rose from the head table to start for her shared suite with Draco, Bill pulled her aside to speak for just a moment. This shouldn't have set her off guard, nor should it have seemed unreasonable for him to want to talk to her, but something just didn't sit right. Perhaps it was an overly taxing day, the excitement for the first day of school starting in the morning or the fear that she still didn't have her lesson plans in order that did it, but at that moment she absolutely was not in the mood for her brother in law.

"Good evening Bill, what can I do for you?" Is what she wanted to say. Keep it short sweet and to the point, instead what came barrelling out was "The bloody hell Bill? It's only the first day."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Bill exclaimed as he threw his hands in surrender, and possibly jest, "didn't mean nothin' by it love. Just wanted to see if you would like a known escort to your room. Bloody ruddy of her to have you share quarters with that nasty little ferret from your schools days."

Hermione tried not to roll her eyes, truly she did. "Always so galant with your sister in laws love?" She couldn't help the slight jab by reminding him of her place in his family tree.

"It pains me, here," Bill placed his hand tenderly over his heart in mock bravado, "in my heart. It hurts that you think I might have ill intentions with wee 'ittle Ronikins mate. What kinda bloke do you take me for pet?" The acerbic sincerity was just dripping from his sarcastic words.

Hermione was reminded then where Fred and George came across their snarky demeanour. Surely they weren't the only Weasley children to develop that trait, right? Thinking of the twins made Hermione smile and soon she was shaking her head at imaginary thoughts involving them playing tricks on Peeves.

"Do you want the honest answer Bill?"

"Course I don't want honest per say. How ever a bit of stroking," he waggled his brows at her flustered expression before she could interject, "of the ego might be nice."

Hermione, for all she tried, couldn't hide the deep hue of the blush spreading up her neck and across her face. "Honestly William!" Her indignation mocking as she smacked his arm soundly. "Have you no shame, or respect? I mean bloody hell what would Ron think, what would Fluer think, if they heard you talking like this?" All she could do was shake her head.

"Well pet, I believe they would say, and I'm paraphrasing here mind you, 'you bloody wanker. I'll fuckin' kill you' and possibly 'pourquoi ne pas ramener à la maison?'" His impersonations of both Ron and Fluer dead on.

"Im sorry, but did I just hear you right? You seriously think she would invite me to your home? In that context?" Hermione tried to scoff but the sheer absurdity left her flabbergasted.

"Wouldn't be the first time she's invited, or let me invite, someone over to," he scrunched up his brow as he thought of a tactful way to phrase it. Coming up short he simply said, "share" with a shrug of his shoulders and a mischievous smirk on his face.

"Merlins beard Bill!"

"What its not like I'm actually propositioning you...although..."

Hermione's eyes widened at the implications left unsaid and Bill let out a somewhat raucous chortle. "Oh come off it 'Mione. I know you're with Ron, even if things are bad."

"He told you?!" She didn't mean to raise her voice, and she definitely didn't mean for her favorite person in the world to hear her. "What. Did. He. Say. William Weasley?" Each word punctuated with a vehemence that he had only ever heard of, never having been privy to receiving.

"Hey, woah. Love. Calm down. He din't say much. Jus' that you two weren't gonna have kids any time soon an' that it hurt yur heart. Promise tha's all love."

Hermione groaned inwardly. If Bill knew, oh Gods if Bill knew, her eyes went wide as saucers, "Does your mum know? Please tell me he wasn't daft enough to let it slip around her." She knew she sounded petulant, how could she not right then, but the very idea and thought of Molly Weasley knowing that the woman that has loved her son for as long as she knew what love was, wouldn't be giving her grandchildren, shook her to the core.

"Love, far as I know mum doesn't know. She would have gone," the heartfelt sincerity was astounding, "mental. More so then she already is. Not to mention Fluer would have cornered me wanting to know how to help." In his grey-green eyes Hermione saw pity, and that broke her heart as well.

She stubbornly fought back the tears that were biting at the edges of her vision. How could he be so reckless? He knew how ashamed she was, didn't he? Hermione took a steadying breath as she turned to look at Bill. His eyes were full of uncertainty now as he watched her work through her inner musings. "Bill," Hermione started. She had to clear her throat a couple of times before the words would actually come out. "Thank you for walking me here. Perhaps we can chat some more later, but right now I really need to get my lessons drawn up and I'm bloody tired. Goodnight?" She offered the sentiment tentatively and somewhat meekly for the infallible Hermione Granger.

Bill just shook his head. He could tell when a woman had had enough, and right now she obviously was past enough. "Course mon cher. Have a goodnight." With that he kissed her cheek tenderly, with as much brotherly affection as he could afford.

Hermione breathed the password to the portrait concealing the doorway. It was a portrait with the nymph Maia sitting with her newborn son Hermes inside a cave. "Aperire." The softness of the word swayed the breeze around Maia's head.

"Of course dear child," was all the portrait spoke as it opened to showcase the beautiful parlour room inside. The colors were warm and earthy. Deep greens and rich browns surrounded Hermione. The scattered rugs appearing like tufts of grass on a late spring day. The floor looked as though a river had been run right under the floorboards. Scattered among the room were plush arm charms that looked as though they had been carved from tree trunks, melding in shades found among mosses within the Forbidden Forest. Hermione was mesmerised.

She quickly sat down on the chaise near the fireplace. The velvety texture of the upholstery easing her mind into tranquility. Here she could focus, here she could find solace from the things she couldn't control, here she could finally be at peace. The chaise was so warm, so inviting, and while Hermione wished to know what her room looked like the comfort she experienced beside the fire melted her mind into nothingness. She was asleep.

" _We shouldn't have done this." Her voice was breathy and laboured. She felt as though she had been running a marathon multiple times in a row._

 _"I promise Princess, this is what we should always do," his lips were gliding across her skin as he spoke._

 _The little tickles from the tiny hairs moving from his breath were glorious. His hands, oh Merlin his hands, were silky to the touch and skimmed her every curve effortlessly. She let out a throaty moan as his breath once again ghosted over her skin, across her collarbone, kissing the hollow of her neck._

 _As Hermione arched her back, he reached behind her. Pulling her in closer to his naked body. His taut muscles flexing under her touch, her gentle caresses. She wanted him, all of him, she wanted him to envelop all of her senses. She didn't want to think, only to feel. To feel the languid motion of his tongue as he teased her nipple harder, to feel the reflexive nature of his fingers as he wrapped his hand around her thighs._

 _The velvet softness of the duvet under her radiated with a magic that tasted like him, that tasted of whiskey and apples. Reminded her, reminded her of something. What was it? She ran her hand along the edge of his jaw. Memorising every curve, every bend, every angle of his face. The slight stubble gracing his skin wasn't quite rough, it was pleasant. Just long enough to light a fire deep in her belly as it grazed her skin. His hair so pale that it reminded her of moonlight._

 _His skin was radiant with a glow that was ablaze from within his very soul. It was emitting from his eyes, this fiery radiance that made his eyes burn with a blue flame. He was hot to touch and bright to behold. It was then his name escaped her lips. A whisper, softly spoken and barely audible, "Draco."_

 _He nipped at her neck again, lavishing his tongue up the chords contained there, grazing his teeth as he traversed his way. He was hard, but he would wait. He always waited. That wasn't to say he wouldn't beg, he would, but only for her. For he_ r _ears. "Please" one simple word and she would uncurl, unfurl for him._

 _It wouldn't last though. He would need to leave soon, whether gratification was attained or not. But he would come. Every time she called for him he would come. He would always be there to pick up the pieces for her while she sleeps, but right now she wanted him._

 _"Say my name again." It wasn't a demand, but not a request either. It was something more. "Say my name again." This time he breathed his statement into her ear as he licked its shell. "Say my name again." Each time he said it she became more fevered, she yearned more for the touches to escalate._

 _"Draco," she heaved a sigh of relief as he slid his body in between her legs. She was on fire, an itch deep in her belly that she desperately wanted scratched. "Draco," she breathed his name again as she dug her nails into the flawless skin of his back. She bucked her hips toward him as she said his name one final time_ _  
_  
"Draco."

He couldn't mistake it that time, Hermione Granger was talking either about him or to him in her sleep and he wasn't so sure he entirely wanted to know. Before he had a chance to get into his dorm however Hermione started talking again. It was faint, but Draco could definitely make out words. They were incoherent at first. A mumbled 'yes' here and a garbled name there. He was silently snickering when the sound of crying reached him.

It was so plaintive, and small. Quieter than what else she was speaking and as he turned and looked at her face in the firelight he could tell. She was truly crying.

"Please don't leave me alone," her words barely louder than the hum from the Black Lake. The way she said it froze him to the spot. Did Weasley know she did this in her sleep? Did McGonagall? How in the bloody hell was he going to sleep if she blubbered all night like this. He tried to muster as much ire as he could, he needed to loathe her in private so that he could tolerate her in public. Sure he didn't believe in all the pure blood shite any longer, but she was still a bitch towards him in school. Her whimpering caused him to look at her once more. The large droplets of water staining the cushions of the lounge. "Please don't leave me alone again," the heartbreak he heard in her voice was splintering his resolve but still he couldn't help asking.

"Why shouldn't I leave huh? It's not like we're friends. It's not like we get along. Why should I stay?" Draco tried to sound harsh, but instead he wound up sounding feeble and weak. "Why should I stay?" He asked one more time, quieter, softer. It was more for himself really.

"I need you to," it was a whimper, a plea with no rhyme or reason. It was a compulsion. If this was how it would be then he would try to make the best of it. She wouldn't remember any kindnesses he bestowed upon her while she slept after all, and so he grabbed the blanket from the back of one of the chairs and laid it across her, gently tucking a stray curl behind her ear as well.

" _You_ _know don't you?" He asked her. He always asked her that question but she could never remember the answer._

 _"Know what?"_

 _"Why I come to see you like this. Why I stay even when I should get going."_

 _"I have no idea why. Will you tell me?" She asked as she drew lazy circles on his chest. The steady thrum of his heartbeat echoing in her palm._

 _"Because you asked me to be," was all he said about it._

 _"Draco?"_

 _"Mmhmm?" His response muffled as he placed delicate kisses along her neck once more._

 _"Sometimes, sometimes I can't tell if this is a dream or not. Why is that?"_

 _"Because I_ _make the dreams go away for I distract you from remembering them."_

 _"But why?"_

 _"Because when you dream lucid dreams this happens."_

Hermione was screaming and rubbing furiously at her arm. It was burning and her body was aching. No, no, no, no this couldn't be happening. It was so real, but the manor walls were replaced with the woodland decor of the Hogwarts parlour she shared with Draco. Looking about her she saw that the sun was barely beginning to rise and a brief look at her watch showed that it was 4:45 in the morning. Bloody hell.


	4. Chapter 4

The start of the day came quick and came early. The sky was still dark and littered with pale starlight. The fire that had been roaring when she laid down was reduced to a low smoulder of embers. It took a moment for her surroundings to register, the soft lushness of the bewitched flooring was a drastic contrast to the cold hard flooring of her flat she shared with Ron, the earthy tones of the decor was a contradistinction to the minimalist approach she idealised.

Arriving in the suite last night, Hermione didn't really take a moment to look at all of the components and intricacies of the area. The common lounge she shared was indeed a relaxing woodland. The ceiling bewitched to show the sky with all of the grandeur of the Great Hall. Constellations winked between whispy clouds that floated along. Off of the common room, Hermione softly padded to one of the five doorways. The wood of this first door was a dark mahogany with intricate runes carved amongst ivy vines and wisteria flowers. It was lighter than she anticipated, gliding effortlessly and without a noise. On the other side was a kitchenette. A wood stove, sink, and pantry were all that were encompassed within and again it held the feel of the woods. A smattering of pots and pans lined the wall just beside the stove, and among them was a tea kettle.

'Just what the doctor ordered,' Hermione thought. Being this early yet she really did want her morning tea and so she set the pot and continued to venture around. The next door she tried opened into one of her classrooms. The door opposite hid the other classroom. Hermione thought it strange that there were two classrooms. Surely she wouldn't be expected to teach simultaneously. A flick of her wrist illuminated the interior of the second classroom to her much delight. She wouldn't teach both classes at once, but rather had a lecture room and a lab room to practice manners as well as the use of muggle technology and sciences.

The start of the actual school day was becoming ever more exciting and Hermione was feeling those familiar butterflies she always got on the morning of the first day of school. While she would be teaching this time, the expectations she had were bubbling to the surface of her psyche making her almost giddy for the first time in her recent memory. Sure marrying Ron was happy, but it was expected no? The space so far was well beyond her expectations, Professor McGonnagall knew her far too well and knew her sensibilities far too well also. These spaces would be absolutely perfect for teaching.

Hermione departed the lab room to face one of the last doors to be opened. One of them had to be her room while the other had to be Draco's. Both of the doors to the sleeping quarters were intricately carved. On the one was an apple tree. It appeared to be in full fruit at the height of the apple season. The branches swayed with a breeze that was neither seen nor felt outside of the carving. Skittering along the base of the tree was a fox as well, slyly poking its pointed nose up from the tall grasses that adorned the bottom of the door. Could this be her door?

On the second door was a stream meandering into a distance that was not distinct. The subtle lapping of the water against the carved stones in conjunction with the gentle trickle of leaves and flower petals falling brought Hermione a sense of peace that she could not discern where it came from. Perhaps the overall sense of the door was enough to elicit the feelings, and then she saw it. Among the rocks and leaves was a tiny baby otter. Hiding and playing as though it could tell Hermione stood just outside of the door. This second door had to be hers, but how to get in. She wasn't given a password and there were no knobs or levers that could be used as a handle. As Hermione spoke the words she knew it was correct, vídra moró, and that must mean the other door was Draco's. Would he be smart enough to figure it out?

'Of course he's smart enough,' Hermione thought as her door swung open, 'it wasn't like he slept out in the common with me now was it?' What she had failed to notice was that Draco had indeed fallen asleep in the chair next to hers. Her screams from the night before ensuring that his mind threw him back into the fray at the manor, but Hermione was far too distracted to notice him.

The interior of her room was simplistic and the atmosphere was cool and calming. Hints of Gryffindor red and gold entwined nicely with the soft ash of the wood that made up the walls and four poster bed. Plush duvets and pillows lay on it along with smattering a of pillows on the chairs that seemed to rise from the floorboards themselves. The wardrobe and desk were carved with lionesses and otters as well. 'Perfection,' Hermione mused, 'sheer and utter perfection.' A gentle rapping at her window brought her out of her reverie as she turned to let the little tawny owl in with its letter. It was early yet and so she wondered who would communicate with her at this time of day. After a quick pat for the unknown owl and treat for its time, Hermione quick relieved it of its task and sent it on its way.

'Hermione,' it started out. 'I hope this letter finds you without much difficulty, actually I know it will you're at bloody Hogwarts after all. Anyway, I was just informed by Pansy, I still can't believe I have to answer to her, that we are going to be departing to Bulgaria for awhile. Apparently,' Hermione envisioned Ron rolling his eyes as he usually did when he was annoyed with something, 'relations are not good between us and them. I'm not sure how much help I'm going to be, but I ran into Viktor, you know your old boyfriend,' Hermione scoffed at the light jab. He knew damned well nothing ever transpired between the two of them, 'and he wanted me to let you know that he is sorry he hasn't been writing you. Where was I going with this? Oh yeah, anyway she says that communication is going to be limited and that I should plan on being here for a couple of months. Bloody hell 'Mione I'm gonna be stuck with Pansy for a couple of months! I'll try to floo you when I can, but I don't know when it will be. Please let Bill know I said hello, and when you write to me send it to the Bulgarian embassy ok? I love you and I know I'm gonna miss you terribly.

Ron'

The familiarity of his words brought a sense of relief that she didn't realise she had been missing and so she sat down and dutifully started writing out a response for him. She told him all about the changes to the school that she had noticed so far and that Bill sends his regards as well. The shrill tilling of the tea kettle caused her to wrap up her letter and send it on its way.

Draco was not impressed with one Hermione Granger. She had caused a disturbance to his sleep multiple times over night, what with the talking and bone jarring screaming, and now there was a whistle piercing his head atrociously. Could she not be bloody quiet? It was bad enough that he wasn't sure of the password to his door, if it was his door, and he had to sleep in the same room as the sleeping banshee, now this. He groaned outwardly as his muscle gave protest to his shifting position. Hermione had unarguably taken the more comfortable of places to sleep.

Draco cocked his eye open just enough to make out her outline departing one of the rooms that were obviously sleeping quarters. His instincts were wrong as he watched her leave the room adorned with otters. 'For fucks sake,' he thought. 'Really apples and a fox? The fuck Minerva?'

He had already looked over the rooms last night, in between Hermiones dream induced fits, except for the sleeping quarters. He was not ready to be up yet, that was for sure, but there was nothing else he could try to do to comfort his mind back into sleep. They were just going to have to deal with each other being awake god awfully early with no other company. 'Oh bloody hell,' Draco groaned as he finally allowed himself to sit up.

On the table beside him were the new books he would need to help Hermione with classes. One of these books he knew, The Use of Magic and The Etiquette Behind It. He had been forced to recite those passages daily when he was growing up in the manor. Most were trivial things like 'wands should never be pointed at company while desert is served' and 'touching another's wand should only be done with permission'. Draco scoffed at the memories of learning and reciting those passages.

However there were more books stacked along with it, 'most likely for her muggle class' Draco thought. He ran his thumb down the spine of a series of similarly bound books. The worn brown leather was soft and smooth and the golden embossing shimmered in the dying firelight of the fireplace, Encyclopedia Britannica. Draco picked up the first book with that title and flipped to a random page. He was instantly reading about Gujarat, a state in India and he was instantly appreciative of this muggle book.

There was also smaller books that had flimsy spines, paperbacks, that would obviously just be reading material. These books included titles such as The Lord of The Flies, and Animal Farm. Laid next to stack of books was parchment that quite obviously had been magicked to be clean after numerous rewrites. Syllabus. Draco was turning over the parchment when Hermione walked back into the lounge, she hadn't noticed him when she first awoke and so was completely startled when she saw him sitting up by the fire.

"What the hell Draco? Why aren't you in your room and what," she reached for the syllabus from a rather stunned Draco, "are you doing with this? It's not done yet."

"I noticed." His early morning, lack of sleep, annoyance rang with that phrase.

"Oh shove off. It's not like you can help at all." Hermione paused a moment before continuing, "I mean obviously you've never been taught etiquette and I highly doubt that you've ever picked up a muggle book in your life."

"Actually, Weasel wife, I have picked up a muggle book before and I have been taught manners thank you very much. Just as I've been taught not to be completely and utterly rude first thing in the morning. Or to walk around as though I've had a heavy foot curse put upon me."

"Oh you mean like," and Hermione flourished her wand as she spoke the incantation directed at Draco, "plumbumio pestie"

The force of the spell hit Draco hard. Instead of just making his feet the claddings on his slippers actually turned into a vice like lead casing. He was rooted to the spot, unable to move even the slightest little bit.

"You vile little bitch!" He screeched and before he could even cast something in response Hermione silenced him.

"There that should help now shouldn't it?" Hermione asked as she pivoted to walk away. She didn't know how it happened but all of a sudden she was encased within an invisible barrier. The gentle rippling of the magic was reminiscent of the wateriness of a mirage. She turned to face Draco and walked straight into another barrier, the shimmering of the iridescence causing her eyes to refocus.

"How in the hell..." but her words were cut short as Draco took his turn to speak.

"Seems you failed to remember that I know both wordless and wandless magic my dear." The smear of his face was invoking ire the likes she hadn't felt since the forest of their seventh year. "I also know quite a few counter curses, so thank you for speaking that one out loud. It truly helped. Now if you'll excuse me."

Draco went to leave for his room, he would figure out the password and then get back to so much needed sleep. He was far too tired for her antics right now. Perhaps when he woke up he would let her out, if she didn't figure it out by that time anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

After some time removing the charm Draco placed on her, Hermione made it for her first lesson of the term, the first lesson she had ever taught in fact. Muggle Appreciation was filled with mostly pure bloods from Slytherin and a smattering of students from other houses, all of which were in at least their sixth year. Much to Hermione's surprise, Lorainna and Narrue were seated right at the front of the class.

"Good morning everyone," Hermione started out. She was nervous sure, but she would not allow that to affect her. "I guess this first class we can just get to know each other and come up with lists of things to learn about muggles and then we will go over things that we can appreciate muggles have done."

Narrue and Lorainna were the first to enthusiastically raise their hands. Hermione offered them the simplest of smiles, their acceptance bolstering her own resolve to qualm her nerves.

"Narrue?"

"What about professions and the similarities, if there are any, and differences between muggle and magical?"

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed. She wasn't expecting that kind of quarry so quickly. These students were obviously going to be on their toes as far as what would lead them into appreciating their brethren that aren't from ancient magical households. "Lorainna? What are your thoughts?"

"Well professor, I've heard that muggles have items that they have created for entertainment purposes like tellies and microwaves. What are those things?"

"So," Hermione started while stifling a laugh, "you would like to know about muggle technology?"

"Exactly!" Lorainna and Narrue almost shouted simultaneously.

"Ok, ok. Anyone else have any thoughts?"

One by one the remaining students shouted out things such as how do muggles cook, what are the differences between both of these worlds and one smart mouthed person that sounded an awe full lot like Mr. Weasley shouted "what is the purpose of a rubber duck?!"

Hermione couldn't help but chortle at the reminder and feverishly sought out the voice of the student that had asked, but all of the students themselves looked just as perplexed as she felt. In the corner seated quietly Draco blanched as though he had seen a ghost.

Magical Etiquette went much the same way with Hermione asking students what they felt might be beneficial to completely integrate themselves into magical society and a plethora of response from proper greeting mechanics to wizarding traditions around the world. Denis Creavy however had the best question of all.

"Professor, why is it that magical society still insists on the segregation and demeaning of squibs?"

"I don't think I understand what you mean Denis. Would you mind elaborating a bit?"

Draco had sat falling asleep in his little corner until this discussion started. He had to admit that even though he never did it intentionally, he too was a culpable party to that as well. Why did they look down on them so badly?

"We'll take Filtch for example. In all of his mean, ornery, cantankerous ways he has been shunned and looked down on by wizarding society because he can't do magic even though he is from a very prestigious family. What if he became nicer because he wasn't ostracised by his peers and family? Is it just proper to exile and outcast just because he was born with a defect in his magical blood? Isn't it the same as when muggles locked up and hide away with their mentally disabled children?"

The rumble of agreement that met her ears was astounding. These children were far wiser than those of previous generations obviously, or perhaps it was mainly the after waves of the war that founded this new way of challenging old ways of thinking, and for once Hermione didn't have an answer. She had never read anything pertaining to it and if she were to be completely honest had never given it a second thought. She had thought about the oppression of magical creatures such as house elves but not the oppression faced by humans.

"You know what Col-Denis I'm gonna let Draco try to answer this because honestly I've never even thought about it. Draco?" The earnestness in her voice stunned him momentarily. She was actively going to have him participate in this.

"Well," Draco began as he cleared his throat, "I can only speak for my family on this. On the Black side there was rumoured to be a great uncle of mine that was born a squib. My great-great grandmother tried her damnedest to make him feel accepted and wanted but Walburga wanted nothing to do with having her brother ever mentioned. She never wanted to see him or hear of or from him. Because she was so vehemently against his very breath the rest of the family followed suit. He was an abomination and that is what I was brought up to believe myself.

"The story goes that when the Black family tapestry was created she refused to put him on it as alive, instead wrote him of as deceased at birth because of how big of an atrocity it was that her family bore a child that was inferior," Draco closed his eyes at the hurt he saw in the students eyes while he spoke. Perhaps he spoke too candidly, perhaps he was being too honest. But they needed to know, had a right to know about these things in their new magical world. Perhaps this group of students could change the way etiquette was taught, more than likely not with how steadfast most pure blooded families were, but this time after war was full of new potential right?

"I think," he made a pointed glance in Hermione's direction, "Professor Weasley and I can convince Mr. Filtch to come in and speak on his own behalf about the how and why. I've never actually encountered a squib until I started here and I must say that I was an outright pray towards the man, as have been most students."

He didn't know why but there seemed to be a glimmer of something, was it hope, in Hermione's eyes. He was probably imagining it, but oddly enough he was comforted by the thought that she actually found what he said compelling and forthwith.

By lunchtime Hermione had come up with a plan for her classes. There would be a q&a to start for the first week followed by a game she remembered playing with her parents during breaks. It would where each pupil wrote down what they thought each thing did, was, or meant and the one to get the closest would win. The house with the most points after the game would be granted a prize along with house points. Only after the first week would she start this game and at the end of term she would have an essay for them write. The following term would be filled practical application. So then the rest of her day followed the pattern she had already established, students asking what they wanted to know and her giving general responses and occasionally pulling Draco into the conversation if she truly didn't know.

{~*~}

That night Hermione laid her head down. She felt good about what she had accomplished and that Draco hadn't caused any more of a scene than what he had done that morning. But that sort of trespass was easy to forgive. After all she had struck first. Her pillow was soft and warm, so much so that she instantly fell asleep.

 _'Where did you put it?!'_

 _'I swear I don't know what you are talking about. Please listen to me.'_

 _Hermione was surprised by the sound her voice made. She was begging for the torture to end. The slow creeping of death working away at her psyche._

 _'Help me! Please help me!' She was begging him with her eyes as another curse was cast her way. While Bellatrix wasn't a very large person all of her weight centred on Hermione's chest begged to differ, she could be crushed or suffocated under the heavy fabric of the skirt about her face._

 _As_ _Bellatrix grabbed her arm a pain unlike any other surged up her appendage._

 _The scream. Oh Gods that scream she could hear emitting from her mouth._

As Draco rushed into Hermione's room he stopped out of sheer terror. Hermione, brave Hermione war heroine, was clawing fervently at her arm shrieking with everything she had in her. He knew then what dream, no what nightmare she was reliving, she was remembering. He would never remember rushing to her side, nor would he remember climbing on to her bed to cradle her, but the shushing sound he would.

"Please wake up," he was begging her. He wasn't able to help then, but he sure as hell would try now. More sternly he all but yelled, "Hermione!"

She was sobbing and the faded scare on her forearm was a bright angry shade of red. It was apparent that she had all but tried to claw the flesh from herself.

Her screams subsided as Draco held her and turned into little pitiful whimpers. The whimpers faded away into breathy exhales and she nuzzled into his side. He would swear that she was dreaming it was Ron, but he would also admit that it felt good to help her, and so he held her just a little longer stroking the wild mass of curls atop her head.

{~*~}

'Are we feeling better mouse?' His drawl was thick and all she could focus on was the feel of his hands entwined in her hair as he played with it while she let out contented sighs.

'Mmhmm.'

'Do you want me to stay like this now instead of the way I am in the other dream?'

 _'mm,' she couldn't form the words she wanted to say. She was just glad to have this version back. The version that smelled of whiskey and apples instead of fear and shame._

'Would you like me to,' he started grazing his nose along the cords in her neck, 'ease your tensions?' His hands were becoming the Devils play things, ghosting over the bare spots of skin along her arms and thighs.

 _'How do you propose,' his hands were sending little tingles akin to shocks through her body, 'to do that? Hmm?'_

 _She was snaking around in his arms so that she could reach that spot just under his ear along the jaw where she had discovered was sensitive beyond compare._

 _'Nah uh Mouse. This is my turn.' His voice had dropped in volume so that she wasn't actually hearing the words but more feeling the vibrations of every syllable along her flesh._

 _He left feather light kisses along her arms and neck, paying special heed to where her scars from the war were, especially this his living self watched be inflicted upon her._

' _Mouse why did you dig at it?' He asked as he swept his mouth across the etched word on her body. Even now he was mortified at it, but all she could do was shrug as his mouth made the pain and burning subside._

 _'Will you tell me your name finally?'_

 _'But Mouse you know it. Just say it.'_

 _'Draco.' Her breath caressed his skin and brought to light his silver blond hair, his piercing grey eyes and the taught muscles that had laid underneath the fogginess of her dream world._

 _'Do you want me to kiss you here?' He was hovered just above her navel as she nodded._

 _'What about here?' Again all she could do was nod as he laid a kiss just inside her thigh._

 _He was dragging his fingertips agonisingly slow and following with a mixture between kisses, licks and nips up to her core. As he hovered there he tried giving her one last out knowing full well she would succumb to his whims. And she did succumb.  
_

Draco was surprised when Hermione moaned a very deep throaty moan. He heard it last night just as she was calling his name. How could she go from one screaming her head off to this he wondered, but he didn't want to find out.

As he went to slip out of her bed she grabbed for him while he was still holding on to her, trying to disentangle himself. She was quick as she in turn ran her fingers through his hair, breathy moans of 'Draco' lilting out of her mouth. Or at least he thought he heard his name and so he bent closer, this was either a very smart or very dumb move though because he no sooner hovered close to her mouth than she brushed her lips against that spot just under his ear. Then he froze.

It was just a moment, but it was long enough for him to actually decipher her intentions and he had to leave. He could not do this, did not want to do this. Did he? So he fled her room as discreetly as he could. At least now she wasn't screaming, panting slightly yes, but definitely not screaming.


	6. Chapter 6

The first week of classes came and went without much more incident. Draco was finally able to start sleeping through the whole night, although he would check on Hermione every few hours just in case, and the students were elaborating on the ideas they had thrown about in class. The pure bloods were actively trying to talk with muggle borns, however short sighted that was at times. The insistence that there was some profound reason behind the rubber duck caused raucous amounts of laughter from most of the students, while causing a fierce dislike from the others.

At the end of the day that Friday Hermione received her second owl from Ron. She hoped that her return letter was well received, if he even had it delivered.

'Hermione,  
Romania has been wonderful so far. We are still on tight restrictions regarding post and communications but at the rate Pansy is working it shouldn't be too much longer. You should see her. It's almost as bloody brilliant as you waging war on a country. The difference is that she has so much poise and, I don't know. Never thought I'd say I might be able to be friends with her now that we ain't in school. Viktor is insisting I give him your address so that he can floo or write to you, says he'd love to catch up some time. Don't know how much you are allowed communication wise, but if you want that I'll get it arranged. Ron'

She was reading into, having known for as long as she had. The innocuous statements a testament to the fact that he may in fact feel just as distanced as she did. Ron had always been jealous of her briefness with Kirk, him offering to set up communications was suspicious, and his growing assumed fondness for Pansy was deafening. And that hurt.

{~*~}

Draco couldn't help but notice the dried tears upon Hermione's cheek, the tracks dull against the fires glisten. The piece of parchment that she loosely held clutched in her hand fluttered to the floor just he wondered what could have caused the tears, and if it would perhaps cause the screaming again. So far one week is all that was afforded to him for sanities sake without her horrible nightmares.

The scratchy writing was less than emotionally unsettling, unless it was the lack of ability to read the bloody drivel that got to her. There was nothing even remotely upsetting written, at least not to Draco.

The fire was still very much blazing in the fireplace and with Hermione already passed out and him on his way to bed as well Draco knew the fire needed to be taken down to a minimal trace and the house elves didn't really need to be bothered with that task when a simple 'homenis' spell could accomplish what he was looking for. Damn her fucking S.P.E.W. bullshit from school. Not that he would admit ever reading the stupid pamphlets that were mocked in the Slytherin common room.

"Vulpes lagopus," Draco muttered as the little foxes on his door continued to romp. He was exhausted and desperately hoped that the nightmares, or dreams, or whatever they were continued to stay at bey tonight. Just in case though he left his door open just ajar and placed a charm so that he could help her if he needed to.

{~*~}

 _He_ _was there with her again, gently stroking the wild curls of her hair. She was able to hear the gentle thump thump of his heart against his rib cage, a slow and steady beating that was soothing and lulling and intoxicating all at once._ __

 _'Why aren't you this way outside of this dream?' Hermione asked him as she hurried her face further into the soft fluff of his chest. His scent filling her nose and over powering everything else around her._ __

 _'I can't be.' He wanted to be, he was sure of it. 'The thing is Hermione, you know I am, just not where everyone can see. You've woken up with blankets draped across you, and your shoes are always by the door.' He bent then to place a soft kiss atop her head. An act of affection she used to receive from Ron._ __

 _'Besides, you're married. Here in your mind I am allowed to touch,' he said as he grazed a finger along the length of her arm, 'and I am allowed to taste,' the feeling of his tongue and lips were so realistic on her jaw and neck, 'but outside of your internal haven you and I both know that it can't and won't happen.'_ __

 _Draco moved her to arms length with that statement, the obviousness of trying to distance himself a stabbing pain deep inside her heart. It shouldn't bother her, because he was right. She was married, and not to him. While obviously she was attracted, at least subconsciously, could she truly be attracted to him in the waking hours?_

{~*~}

Draco awoke because of the wards he had placed up in case Hermione had another one of her nightmares. The simplest little sob would set them off, and so when he heard the tiny tinkling, he knew it may just be a matter of time before the screams started. So he crept out of bed and out to the common room. He would sit with her once more while she worked through her nightmare, or dream, or whatever it was because one week was the record so far.

The first thing he noticed in the dim firelight was that her cheeks were glistening. Slow lazy tears trailing down her face. Then it was the meek little whimpers. Those tiny little puppy noises that nobody likes to admit to hearing let alone admit break their heart ever so slightly. The Ines that almost always mean deep pain or loss or both.

Draco grabbed the tattered copy of Animal Farm was he approached the couch where Hermione still lay whimpering. At least tonight he would get some reading in while trying to quell her internal thoughts. A flick of his wand had her head floating just above the cushion so that he could slid himself there comfortably. He had learned petting her head and playing with her hair tended to soothe her back into sleep. But he still couldn't help but wonder how in the hell the Weasel didn't wake up to this.

"Please don't leave," Hermione breathed as Draco laid a hand atop her head after resting on his lap.

"Why can't you be normal and take dreamless sleep like a normal person Granger," Draco whispered to her, "do you not realise you do this or something?"

He knew she wouldn't respond to his question and so set about reading his book. 'I won't leave though, I promise.' Draco thought.

{~*~}  
 _  
_ _'You know,' the coyish look on Bellatrix's face was unnerving, 'I do believe you are that little mudblood slut from Hogwarts aren't you?'_ __

 _Hermione turned her face away. She couldn't acknowledge that the other two caught with her were Harry Potter, known enemy to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and Ronald Weasley son of blood traitors. If she acknowledged who she was, she would surely damn them all to death. Draco had already lied and said it wasn't Harry. Would he face retribution as well?_ __

 _She couldn't risk it, no she wouldn't risk it. Even if he was a slimy little ferret, he didn't deserve what ever convoluted punishment they would have for liars. And so Hermione spat her._ __

 _'I told you, I'm Penelope Clearwater!'_ __

 _'Liar!' Bellatrix bellowed in outrage. 'I know you're that little trollope because you look exactly how Lucious and Draco described you. Bushy hair,' a fistful was ripped from her scalp, 'and a swotty know-it-all demeanour. Don't liE TO ME!'_ __

 _With that declaration of outrage Hermione was thrown to the floor. This was going to hurt and she just knew it. 'Merlin why wouldn't anyone say she wasn't Hermione?' She thought before all she could see was black from the amount of pain._

{~*~}

'This is some twisted reading material,' Draco thought. 'Why would muggles write about farm creatures that wind up causing a coup, and better yet why does Granger think this is appropriate for students?'

He wouldn't admit it, but he was finding the read rather intriguing, and then she screamed. It was the same high pitched, shake the walls and collapse a ceiling scream that you hear when some is being murdered. Her forearm was glistening as he glanced down and then he noticed that the faded 'mudblood' scar left by his aunt was angry, enflamed and seeping blood!

He hadn't thought to bring a healing potion, this hadn't happened yet, but he would remember for the next time. Along with putting some dreamless sleep into her tea kettle at night.

"Shhhh. Hermione it's ok. I'm right here. Shhh,' Draco was trying to calm her down without waking her up. He remembered his mom shushing him and stroking his hair during bad dreams and thought that might help right now, so he continued with the shushing and petting her.

"I'm right here Granger. Shhhhh. You're safe I promise."

"Draco." It was said in such a hushed whisper that he thought he imagined it, until the redness started to recede and the oozing from her scar all but stopped. Damned cursed blades.

{~*~}

 _'Hermione it's ok. I'm here for you and you're safe I promise.'_ __

 _She was no longer in the dark foray of Malfoy Manor, instead it was bright and fresh. When she opened her eyes they were in the woods._ __

 _'Draco.' It was as much a careless whisper as she could manage. How had he saved her?_ __

 _'Where's Harry and Ron?'_ __

 _'All you have to do is think of them and they'll be here, but considering how you thought of me,' Draco motioned to his less than clothed body, 'I wouldn't suggest it. Unless your want three half naked men around you I mean.'_ __

 _The cocky expression on his face made Hermione blush._ __

 _'Fine,' even though she was remembering these were her dreams she had no idea where she was, 'then tell me this where are we? I've never been to this forest.'_ __

 _'We are on the other side of Malfoy Manor. You wanted out and so I got you out.'_ __

 _'But that's not how it happened! She...she tortured me for hours and you...you didn't save me Dobby did!' Hermione's anger flashing in her eyes._ __

 _'You're right I didn't when it first happened,' he spat. His irritation radiating off of his person in waves. 'But you asked for me to help this time and I bloody well did!'_ __

 _'I asked you for help the first time too and you just stood there dumbfounded and entranced like the damned puppet you are!'_ __

 _'Were.'_ __

 _'Excuse me? What makes you think for one moment,' but Draco had crossed what little bit of room was between and stood hovering slightly over her, the smell of apples and whiskey assaulting her senses._ __

 _'Because even outside of this dream you call me! Nightly! And you know it. Why else would smells be heightened every now and then if I wasn't actually by you?! Use your brain Granger, we all know you have one. That is unless you lost it marrying the Weasel King.'_ _  
_

Draco had tried to stay awake, but his eyes slowly fluttered shut, his hand resting in the mess of Hermione's curls. It was comfortable. Peaceful.

Hermiones eyes shifted open enough for her to register his legs under her head. She regained the ability to feel his hand in her hair and the shallow breathing of his deep slumber. His smell waifed all around her and it was comforting mixed with the smell of the dying embers.

"Touché," she said but it was on the last sigh of her breath as fell back to sleep.  
{~*~}

So sorry this took so long to post. I just couldn't get it out. But it's here now


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